


Yontaya

by shittyficramblings (LifeLineOfDarkness)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, First Time, Humor, Jim does have ptsd, M/M, More tags added as I go, Oh yeah Jim is trans by the way, PIV Sex, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Language, and then more and more times, kind of breeding fetish don't ask me, likely angst, trans porn by trans vulcans, unrequited crush?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeLineOfDarkness/pseuds/shittyficramblings
Summary: The one where Jim thinks it's a good idea to have a casual sexual relationship with Spock, whom he has a crush on.Jim is not known for thinking before acting.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120





	1. Jim Has a Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> For trans people: This fic contains penetrative vaginal sex. The words Jim uses to describe his genitals are "cunt" and "dick". If this makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this one.
> 
> Unnecessary details: Jim hasn't had top surgery, at most he's had a reduction or just a small chest and worked out enough that it's mostly muscular at this point. It's not mentioned in the fic, and is unlikely to be mentioned.

“So,” Jim says subtly, “how are things with Uhura?”

“‘Things’, Captain?” Spock replies, adjusting his microscope-thing. Whatever he’s looking at must be pretty fascinating; he’s not even looking at Jim.

“Yeah. You know. Aren’t you two, like, dating?” Did he mention he was subtle?

“Ah.” Spock says, looking up—finally—from his work, “That is not entirely accurate, however, it is not a baseless assumption.” There’s some sort of smile on his face, barely visible to the naked eye. Jim boggles. He’s an eloquent captain.

“Wait, what?” He sputters, “What’s going on, then?”

“Nyota and I are engaged in what some refer to as ‘casual sex’. Neither her nor I mind our arrangement. There is, however, no romantic inclination. We terminated our romance 2.5 months ago.”

“I thought you— _V_ _ulcans_ —didn’t have casual sex?” Jim blurts. Someone should really stop him.

Spock’s mouth twitches in obvious humor. “I have found it to be somewhat cathartic and meditative. The health benefits of sex are overwhelmingly positive. Logically, sexual relations will help improve my efficiency by 24.3%.”

Jim physically forces himself to close his mouth, which had been suspiciously open for too long. Instead, he bites his lip, pondering. “I see.”

Spock inclines his head, then returns to his work, unphased. _I guess that’s that,_ _then,_ Jim thinks.

“Okay, well I’m off to bed. Good night, Commander.”

“Rest well, Captain.” Spock replies.

On his way back to his cabin, Jim’s mind wanders. He recently realized he might have something of a crush on Spock, but had more or less just been in denial until this very moment. He isn’t discriminatory in his sexual partners, far from it. He finds non-Terrans extraordinarily interesting and pleasure _is_ universal in its many forms. Somehow Jim just assumed that Spock and Uhura didn’t have sex, or that they just sort of laid there and touched each other whilst practicing linguistics.

Spock is handsome, yes, but he doesn’t seem necessarily like the wild type. Well, aside from when he nearly choked Jim to death, Jim remembers, rubbing his neck in sympathy. But if Uhura keeps coming back for more there has to be something there, right? She’s pretty selective, and since this relationship is _about_ sex it has to be good. What’s he missing?

It’s digging into him and prodding his subconscious. He heard it in a Xenobiology class and it stuck with him because Vulcans are so private that there’s almost nothing about them documented. Something about touching...oh. _Oh._

Jim swings around mid-pace. Bones has to hear about this.

* * *

“I thought Vulcans didn’t have casual sex.”

Jim laughs at the doctor’s stricken face, then stops abruptly. Had _he_ looked that stupid when Spock admitted to casual sex?

“Yeah, I didn’t either but he started talking about the _health benefits_ of it. His efficiency goes up by 24% or something, he says.” Jim smirks again, taking another swig of brandy. His conversations with Bones usually start out with some sort of alcoholic beverage, and this one _definitely_ required it.

“Well I hate to say it, Jim, but he _is_ right about the health benefits. I just didn’t peg him for someone all that...well, excitable.”

“Tell me about it,” Jim groans, “but there’s something there if _Uhura_ is coming back for more, right?” It’s the same argument he had with himself but he can’t help it, he’s gotta know his friend’s opinion.

Bones makes a face. “I’d rather not think about it.”

“There’s a thing I remember from Xenobiology. About Vulcans. I think it’s the answer.” Jim pushes through, not sure why he needs to voice it. “Vulcans are touch-telepaths, Bones! Touch telepaths!”

“So?” The doctor looks at Jim with a mixture of suspicion and dawning repulsion.

“Think about it!” Jim notes absently that he’s getting a little too excited about this. Bones looks like he specifically doesn’t want to think about it. Jim ignores this. “He’s gotta know all the _good_ spots just by touching, he can tell without words what someone thinks! God, Uhura must be getting the best sex of her life—no need to _teach_ him how she likes it, he just _knows._ ”

Bones’s face completely scrunches up and Jim stifles a laugh. Then, like a lights come on, the doctor’s expression clears and he turns to Jim with stifled horror and irritability.

“You’re _not_.” He makes the idea seem as distasteful as a colonoscopy. 

Jim waves a hand absently, as if he can shoo away the storm brewing in his friend’s mind. “Hey, it’s not like he’d _go_ for it. He’s probably not even _into_ guys!”

“Jim, this is the single _worst_ idea you’ve ever had—,”

Jim looks doubtful. “Janice? Re-wiring a shuttle directly in front of an enemy clan? _Irdinis? Gary? Eating mysterious blue—_ ,”

“Okay, Okay. Not the _worst_ idea, but really. Even _you_ know better than to sleep with your own damn X.O., the most emotionally-constipated computer I’ve ever met…”

“You’re right, Bones.” Jim stands, slapping his friend on the back. “That’s why you’re gonna prepare for my eventual rejection.” He slips away fast from the doctor’s fists and smiles in the doorway sweetly before making his way to the nearest lift. 

* * *

Jim rubs his hands together, biting his lips. This is going to be a _lot_ harder than he had thought. Was he even thinking? He really should have just left it alone, right? There’s no way Spock would—

“Captain?” Uhura looks amused. God, Spock probably told her.

“No, this isn’t ship’s business, Nyota. Actually, I would definitely prefer you not call me ‘Captain’ while we talk about this.” Jim folds his arms and then unfolds them. Puts his hands on his hips and looks at his boots.

“Is this about how you asked Spock if we were still dating?” She’s trying not to laugh. _Fuck_ of course Spock would tell her, they used to date!

“Uh. Yeah.” Jim feels his face heat up. He folds his arms again. “It, apparently, improves his efficiency—,”

“—By 24.3%. Yeah, I know. He gave me the same statistics.” She starts laughing, “I can’t believe you asked about his _sex_ life, _Captain._ ”

“Look, I—he’s—you know.” Uhura’s knowing look stops him in his tracks. Why is everyone in his life so damn _smart_ all of the time? “I just wanted to know. Um, so he told me about how you two—like, would it be okay with you if _I_ —,”

Her eyebrows raise. “If you…?”

“Okay, okay. I needed to make sure you’d be okay with it if I... _proposed_ that he and I come to a similar arrangement. To the one. Uh, you have?” She looks at him with such devastating sympathetic humor, if he isn’t a Captain of a Starship, he would dematerialize on the spot. He still almost does.

“Jim,” Her look softens. “I don’t care that much who he sleeps with—we aren’t dating anymore—but I do appreciate your openness to communicate. Gotta say, a few years earlier, I probably wouldn’t have thought you’d be like this.”

Jim’s brow furrows. “Like what? Respectful?” He laughs dryly. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Well, as much as I loved our little chat, I’ve got _plans_ with Christine.” She winks as she walks off. _Huh._

Jim composes himself a little more. She’s definitely engaging, he knows what Spock sees in her. But he’s not sure that Spock would see the same in _him_. 

* * *

“Like how do I even _go_ about it, you know? Like, should I just be logical? Logical is _good_ , right?”

“Get your ass off my freshly-sanitized biobed, _please_.” Bones doesn’t even look up from his Padd—he could hear Jim Kirk coming from a mile away. Just gets this sensation of _chaos_ right before he bursts into the Medbay.

“Oh, you mean my _freshly sanitized_ pants off of your—,”

Bones sighs way too loudly, and sets down his work. Was probably boring anyways, Jim justifies.

“Here’s a _novel_ idea, Jim. Why don’t you quit _bugging_ me while I’m working, and go _talk_ to the damn hobgoblin. Unlike _some_ of us, apparently, _I_ have a job.”

“Mm, you make a good point, Doctor. Counter-argument: my job _is_ to bug you.”

But Bones doesn’t look moved. Jim sighs dramatically, pushes himself up. Why does he have to do _everything_ himself?

As he exits, he swears he hears McCoy wish him luck, and he flips him off. Ugh, he is not looking forward to seeing Spock for chess. This is going to go so badly.

Most of his shift is spent nervously turning halfway to look at the back of Spock’s head, pointedly ignoring the sadistic grins Uhura keeps shooting at him. When there isn’t anything really going _on,_ space is kind of boring. Jim quickly swivels back to face forward as Spock catches him staring and raises an eyebrow.

He closes his eyes and hopes Spock doesn’t—

“Captain, is there something wrong?” _Way_ too close to his ear. Jim jumps.

“Not particularly.” Is his voice higher than normal? He can hear Uhura breathe out her nose in laughter, and he shoots her a Look, not that it really intimidates her.

He lowers his voice, he knows Spock doesn’t have any problems hearing. “But, we’re still on for Chess tonight, right?” 

“Of course, Jim.” Spock always smells _so good_. It almost sucks when he goes back to his post.

  
  


Okay, just… 4 more hours. Jim grimaces. _Ugh._

* * *

At 2100 hours _exactly_ , Jim’s door buzzer chimes. He takes one last look in the mirror to fix his hair, straightens out his uniform, and sits at the table.

“Enter.” Jim beams as Spock’s form is revealed. “Why, Mr. Spock! I wasn’t expecting you.”

Spock looks like he wants to sigh, but he doesn’t.

Spock sits at the table in Jim’s quarters, arranging the pieces of their chessboard, “I believe that that was an attempt at a _joke_ , correct?” He says the word like it has its own personal vendetta against him. With how tightly-strung he always is, maybe it does.

Jim grimaces and sits. He puts his hands on his lap, then crosses them over his chest Back to his lap. He crosses his legs.

“Is there something on your mind, Captain?” Jim startles to perceptive brown eyes looking him up and down. Spock’s expression is impassive, but his eyebrows look sympathetic. _His eyebrows look sym—what?_

Jim’s throat is dry and he tries not to cough when he speaks. Why is his heart pounding so hard? It’s not like this would ruin their tentative friendship, right?

Right?

“Um. Ooh. I was wondering, um.” Get it together, Kirk. Suave, my ass. “I was wondering if we could, maybe.” Jim fixes his eyes on the floor and takes the plunge. “The thing you said about efficiency. Do you think I could... benefit from it too?”

There’s a palpable pause. Jim’s face is burning but he feels like he’s falling.

Spock’s voice is carefully neutral. “Would I be correct in assuming that you are asking me if you should have sexual relations in order to improve your efficiency?”

Jim almost laughs, but it probably would come out as a squeak. 

“Not...exactly?”

“Jim.” Spock’s frank use of his name makes him look up. Spock is blank, but not cold. “What are you saying?”

_That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?_ Jim doesn’t say.

_Why don’t we forget this ever happened and go back to the game?_ Jim doesn’t say.

_I have a really really big, illogical, dangerous crush on you._ Jim doesn’t say.

“I’d like to offer myself as...a potential sexual partner for you.” Jim says.

If asked, Jim knows kind of a lot about what to expect from certain situations. He knows what to do when stranded on an unknown planet. Knows how to fix most of the instruments on his ship—it’s not like he’s going to go in unprepared—despite it not being absolutely necessary. He can make a communicator from scratch, patch up basic injuries, knows how to improvise.

What he’s not prepared for is Spock blinking, his brow furrowing and smoothing out. “You are sure?” His voice sounds _deeper._

“Yeah, I mean—you don’t have to give me an answer right away, you can say no, I’m not gonna force—,”

Jim is cut off by Spock pulling him up out of his seat—when did he get _there_ —and kissing him. He kisses and bites, pulling Jim’s bottom lip into his mouth. Sucking, not too hard. Jim’s knees feel weak and he almost collapses when Spock puts his hands on him, smoothing down his sides firmly. Grasping his hips and curling behind to grab his ass.

Jim gasps into the kiss and Spock swallows it, allowing Jim to do exploring of his own. Across Spock’s chest, his shoulder blades, below. Jim can feel Spock’s heart beating in his side. Spock is making it really hard for Jim to concentrate with how he kneads Jim’s ass in his hands. Did Jim _really_ think he’d have an upper hand in this situation? 

_Oh, fuck._ He feels Spock’s dick against his pelvic bone, extending down his leg, and barely resists the temptation to wrap his legs around Spock to get better leverage. Spock makes it a lot easier by _lifting Jim up by his ass_ and setting him down on Jim’s own desk. A desk they had on, in the past, written several reports together.

“It will be put to better use.” Growls Spock, as he repositions himself to grind into Jim and _yup, this seems like a much better use for the desk_.

Jim isn’t going to whine as Spock’s sturdy hands travel up and then down his body, easing along his muscles and scraping his sensitive stomach. He won’t, even when they hook on his pants and he hears the _snap_ as they come undone. His breathing _might_ be hitching, though, when Spock looks him in the eyes and asks:

“Is this acceptable?”

Jim’s heart _hurts_. “Yeah. But you’re gonna have to do more than _that_ if you want to go beyond ‘acceptable’.”

Spock’s thumb finds Jim’s dick and presses, effectively shutting him up.

“I do not believe I _asked_ ,” his thumb rubs up, tugging at the sensitive foreskin and making Jim breathe out a high moan, “for more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Jim smirks. “Yes, _sir._ ”

Spock’s pupils dilate further and his dick twitches _hard_ against Jim’s thigh. Spock eases Jim’s shirt off, eyes fixating on his chest, and hesitating before diving his head down to lick and suck at one of Jim’s nipples, seeming to enjoy as it turns pinker, _definitely_ enjoying how it makes Jim rock into his hand. 

Which, with the movement, slips past Jim’s dick and stops right at the warm wetness of Jim’s _very interested_ cunt. The Vulcan shudders as his fingers gently probe Jim, not going deep enough to feel much but Jim clenches around them, trying to get Spock to do _something_ , and it works. 

With a frustrated grunt, Spock sinks two fingers deep into Jim, spreading them apart when they’re fully in, and pressing them up as he pulls them out. Jim writhes. 

“You are...very pleasing to look at like this.” Spock’s voice is strained, Jim notes with a satisfaction that is quickly wiped out with a particularly forceful hook of Spock’s fingers.

Spock’s other hand shakily tugs down his pants and underwear in one, making his dick spring up, wet and green--it’s definitely nothing like a human dick, it’s mostly smooth. It twitches in correlation with his fingers thrusting in and out of Jim, who, at this point is gripping the edge of the desk for dear life. Jim can’t cum like this, but it doesn’t mean he can’t lock up to the point of immobility from it.

Suddenly, Spock pulls his fingers out completely. Jim moans and spreads his legs further, but is ignored in favor of Spock bending to take off Jim’s boots and pants. Jim’s cunt is still throbbing with the aftershocks of a thorough fingering and lack of follow-through. He grunts in frustration as Spock roughly shucks his pants over his calves. A pair of dark eyes look up at Jim from between his legs and he swallows thickly.

“What are you doing all the way down there, Commander? Too scared to claim your prize?” Jim’s hoarse voice gives him away.

Spock places one hand on each of Jim’s inner thighs and pries them apart, eyeing him hungrily. Jim’s dick throbs. He’s not prepared to be flipped━ _bent_ ━over his own desk. His face heats up even as his whimpers into his arms and somewhat automatically bares himself. Spock’s breath spreads over his dick and it’s the only warning he gets before Spock’s mouth descends on him; tongue flattening and teasing his dick before━

Jim’s face heats. Spock uses his fingers to spread Jim open further, who feels like he’s gonna explode; Spock’s tongue isn’t firm enough to fully penetrate him, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking Jim with it as far as he can, digging his nails into Jim’s ass until his legs start shaking.

The sharp sucking and teething of Spock’s mouth making a hickey on his left asscheek snaps Jim out of his reverie.

“Juh-just _fuck me_ already, Commander.”

Spock shoots to his feet and leans his full weight across Jim’s back, breath hot in his ear and dick rubbing against his cunt, not going in but twitching and staying maddeningly out of reach. Jim still tries to clench helplessly, and grind himself back, earning a sharp breath in response.

“I could not hear your request, _Captain_.” Even as Spock adjusts himself to be barely pressing Jim open.

“I think you heard me just fine━ _f_ _uck_.” Spock buries himself to the hilt with only a stuttered breath as indication.

Strong arms loop around Jim’s shoulders and Spock starts thrusting in a punishing pace, filling him to the brim completely━ _holy shit holy shit holy shit_ ━Spock’s dick is curved up and rubbing hard, but Jim needs more, he feels like he’s losing mental cohesion cause all he can think of is _Spock is inside me_ , and the tingling sparks shooting to his fingers and toes and he’s being bitten again, this time on his neck. He can hear the hitching in Spock’s breath, Spock reaching down and finding Jim’s dick, squeezing it between his fingers. 

Jim makes a strangled sound and clenches hard around Spock, he needs to feel all of him, and the fingers around his dick squeeze and roll it again, and again, each time eliciting harsh muffled groans from Jim. Spock fucks into him at the same time as he squeezes, effectively causing Jim to tighten up involuntarily just to immediately force him open again. Every deep thrust forces a whine out of Jim.

Spock’s other hand slips in front of Jim’s mouth, his fingers prodding his lips. 

“ _Svi’ru’lut t’du._ **_I_ ** _._ ” Spock grates out.

What? “Wuh━ _mph_!” 

“ _Spol_ ━,” Spock cuts himself off, corrects. “Suck.”

Jim can do that. He hears a ragged noise in his ear, feels Spock’s dick twitch hard inside him. Spock’s hand stutters from its pattern on his dick, not that Jim will last much longer anyways, if the twitching of his legs and the pressure in his stomach is anything to go by. He can barely focus on sucking the fingers shoved in his mouth; the grazing of his teeth seems to only spur Spock on.

“Jim. Where━,”

“ _Fuck,_ inside, Spock. Cum in me.” He’s practically seeing stars. 

In one fluid motion, Spock pulls out━Jim _whimpers_ ━and flips Jim over again, holding him easily and with one hand on each hip, pulls Jim to him. Staring with hooded eyes as he thrusts once. Twice. And cums with a frustrated growl, the throbbing of his dick pushing Jim over the edge too.

They stay in that position for a few minutes before Jim realizes Spock is still fully hard.

“Vulcans can ejaculate up to five times within three hours, on average, Captain.” Comes Spock’s completely put-together voice. Jim doesn’t think he can open his eyes, he’s still riding out the aftershocks.

“I━okay.” Is what Jim says. What he’s thinking is something more akin to: _ghuhh?_ And despite himself, he clenches around Spock at the thought of _more cum_. 

Spock’s breath hitches, and his hips twitch with an aborted thrust. “Jim, I am attempting to retract my _lok_. Your...movements make this significantly more difficult.”

Jim huffs and lays back onto his desk, trying to relax. A few more minutes and the pressure of Spock’s dick slips out, and Jim lifts his head enough to see it shrinking and folding back into Spock’s body. _Huh._

He closes his eyes again and when he opens them, Spock is gone. The only evidence he was there is the chessboard, still set up and unplayed. What did he just get himself into?


	2. The One Where Jim Maybe Thinks This Was a Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He probably should've seen it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed with the HTML so if you hover over the untranslated Vulcan text, it will show you the translation--only works on computers/with a mouse.
> 
> I will add translations below.

Leonard can tell even before Jim starts speaking that something happened. Solely because of the shit-eating grin on his face. And Jim knows he knows because Bones’s eye-roll is the first thing that greets him. The CMO sighs as Jim sits down next to him in the Mess Hall, but Jim ignores him and smiles harder.

“Hey, so guess what happened last night.” 

Bones groans. “Do I _want_ to know, or are you gonna tell me anyway?”

“Aw, Bonesy, don’t wanna ‘shoot the shit’ with your best friend?”

“No one even _says_ that an━,”

“We had sex!” Jim whispers enthusiastically, popping a strawberry in his mouth.

Bones chokes on air.

“Keep your damn voice down!” Bones grumbles back, his face turning red.

Jim leans in close. “And I was right. Bones. Holy shit.” He’s trying to be vague but flashes of memory keep surfacing and he’s feeling himself blush, losing track of what he was trying to say. 

“Speak of the devil.” Bones mutters into his coffee. 

Across the room, Spock has entered and ordered his food from the replicators. Jim’s heart is in his throat━Spock looks just like usual. Aloof and professional. But now he knows what’s under the pressed blue uniform. How his hands feel. How his _mouth_ feels. How he sounds when he━

Spock’s head turns and his eyes sweep the room before settling on Jim. And then he stares. _He looks like he’s gonna eat me._ Jim shifts in his seat, and Spock’s nostrils flare before he turns back to the replicator and takes out his meal. And goes to sit with Nyota and Christine.

Jim turns back around to find Bones with his face in his hands. Jim tries to get him to talk, but Bones just sighs. 

* * *

On the bridge during shift, there is definitely some sort of difference. Spock works exactly like he usually does: efficient, collected. But Jim can’t stop staring at him. He can’t help but shift in his seat and remember the burn of Spock’s dick in him just the night before. Spock’s mouth tasting him like there was no tomorrow. Maybe this was a bad idea. Like, definitely most likely a bad idea. Probably certainly not his best of ideas━

Spock’s looking at him. A shiver passes through Jim as the hands that had _been inside him_ deftly manipulate the science station controls. The shoulders he’d clung to. He lets his gaze slide lower, of course there wouldn’t be anything obvious in Spock’s pants. Spock’s dick━ _loke? What did he call it_ ━would be hidden when he didn’t need it. Jim absently licks his lips and misses the darkening of Spock’s eyes.

Jim spins back around in his seat when he catches Spock’s look. _Shit. Is he pissed? He’s definitely━_

“Captain. Would you accompany me to Briefing Room One? I have the reports from last week’s survey mission complete.”

Jim nods, avoiding looking at Spock, but projecting the confidence he doesn’t feel. “Sulu, you have the helm.”

_Sulu looks excited_ , is the last thought Jim has before the ‘lift doors close and he’s alone with Spock, who seems to be radiating a weird energy. Maybe that’s Jim’s imagination.

After a tense few minutes, Jim can’t resist the temptation and peeks at Spock in his peripheral vision and finds him standing parade rest facing the doors. Maybe he’s not mad? Jim opens his mouth to speak. 

“Captain, I must ask that you abstain from...vocalizing for the moment. Until we arrive at our destination. To _ensure_ we arrive at our destination.”

Jim’s stomach sinks to his feet. Is Spock really that mad? He doesn’t even want to hear Jim’s voice? A warm hand settles on the back of Jim’s neck and he straightens automatically, heart pounding in his ears.

“Your insecurity is unfounded, Jim. I will explain once we get to a more private location.” 

A relieved breath escapes Jim’s throat, and the hand on the back of his neck curls gently before the doors open and it disappears.

Briefing Room One isn’t actually that far away from the Bridge. Turbolift down two levels, across three, down one long hallway. But it is, for some reason, avoided a lot. Only used when strictly necessary, probably because it reeks of responsibility and respectability. There’s one big conference desk with a monitor and chairs, and a set of double doors that Spock, upon entering with Jim, immediately locks using his Command Codes. Emergency override only.

Jim swallows thickly. This is...unexpected.

“Spock? What━ _nghh...hah?_ ” Is essentially the sound Jim makes upon being shoved against the wall, Spock’s heavy breathing on his ear as he grinds something hard between Jim’s legs.

“You _...nah-tor du kriv kitork-nahp---vah-kuv ruhm dan-nuk-vok ri kash-tor kashek-salehmlar t’du. Nah-tor du nash-veh ri kup fnish-tor renyut vukhut t’du dator na’nash-veh?_ ” Spock’s voice pitches in what must be a repressed moan as his dick twitches against Jim, still confined by his pants.  “ _Lau-boshau ru’lut t’du k’sa-nei-masu ni-ish fai-tor kanok-veh pawenau tu t’vi_.”

“Sh-shit, Spock, you know I can’t━understand,” Jim gasps out, his whole face burning as he grinds helplessly against Spock.

Spock drinks in the sight as he pulls off his blue shirt and drapes it across a nearby chair, leaving him in only his undershirt. Jim’s eyes refocus to see Spock pulling down his pants, a green flush across his cheeks.

“Kneel. I must have your mouth.” 

Jim starts salivating preemptively. What does Spock taste like? His knees hit the floor with a dull _thud_ and he rubs his cheek against the hardness in Spock’s briefs. He smells...mostly like incense, but also salty and musky. Peering up at Spock through his eyelashes, he hears an intake of breath. He smiles smugly. Jim knows how good he looks like this. Spock’s hand grips Jim’s hair, pressing him closer.

“ _Glazhau tu weh-rom khluhkau na’lok t’nash-veh._ Take it out.” Spock says, then inhales sharply as Jim uncovers his dick, slapping it against his cheek before swallowing as much as he can fit into his mouth.

Of course Jim would have preferred to taste it a little, but he got a bit caught up in the heat of the moment, and now the whole thing is in his mouth. He relaxes his jaw, and tries swallowing around as much of it as he can, the tip nudging the back of his throat. Gagging, Jim hollows his cheeks and pulls off with a wet _pop._ His mouth tastes kind of salty and _gooey_? But it feels fucking fantastic. He loves blowjobs; he can just clear his mind, and after a little bit it’ll get fuzzy.

Jim breathes out an excited noise as the hand in his hair guides him back down, and Spock’s hips snap forward. The movement is hesitant at first, but after a particularly deep swallow Spock seems to lose it and starts going faster. _Gonna lose your composure so easily for me?_ Spock makes a low noise. His voice, when he speaks, is only barely lower than usual.

“I doubt _anyone_ ,” _thrust_ , “even a Vulcan,” _thrust, Jim whines when Spock pulls him off._ “could resist the temptation you provide.” 

Jim tries to get his mouth back on Spock’s dick, but Spock stops him. Frustrated, Jim pouts up and can’t stop the smug smile pulling his lips when he sees how _demolished_ Spock looks. His hair isn’t messy, but his eyes look distant and his mouth is open to pant. Spock angrily pulls at Jim’s hair and Jim’s dick twitches, even as he moans shamelessly.

“Jim.” Spock finally says, hesitantly. “May I initiate a temporary surface-level meld? I would hope you might get some pleasure from this encounter as well, and I am...very rapidly approaching climax.”

It takes a few seconds for Jim to register what Spock says, too focused on the flush of Spock’s cheeks and the little green spot on Spock’s lower lip where he’d been chewing to keep himself quiet. Jim blinks. And nods. A meld sounds good. _Really_ good.

Spock’s free hand fits itself over Jim’s meld points, and his other hand guides Jim’s mouth back onto his dick. It’s kind of underwhelming for a second, and then there’s a strange sensation of _something else_ pushing at his thoughts. The side of Jim’s face where Spock’s fingers are touching feels warm and buzzing. Jim swallows around the the dick in his mouth and both he and Spock suck in a surprised breath, as the sensation travels straight to _his_ dick. What? Jim moans before fully taking it in, again it’s like he’s sucking his own dick? 

Not only that, but a sudden building pressure scorches low in his groin, and he feels his body react, twitching and clenching, which somehow turns him on more? No, it’s turning _Spock_ on and that’s transferring to _him_ ━

“ _Nah-tor du nuh’mau_.” Spock says, quickly. The meaning transfers through the meld. _You think too much_.

Jim smiles as much as he can. _Aw, is that embarrassment for how much I’m turning you on?_

Wrong thing to say. Spock fucks Jim’s face roughly, and each drag of Jim’s lips on his _lok_ is a direct line to Jim’s pleasure centers. The human brain can only take so much before Jim is reduced to bucking his hips into his pants, the wetness between his legs making him hornier as he rubs his thighs together and he can’t even keep his eyes open. 

He wishes he could put a finger in himself and he isn’t sure if the wish is from him or Spock and the hot, wet _lok_ in his mouth throbs before being shoved as deep as it can go and Jim can _feel_ Spock cumming, because he’s cumming too and trying to swallow even though his whole body is locking up, and he’s not really known for multiple orgasms but it’s not like it’s impossible because he thinks he could really go again like _right now, and_ Spock’s mind withdraws.

Jim blinks again, coming back to himself slowly. Spock’s dick is slipping out of his mouth, and Jim automatically tries to catch it, to get _more_ out of it, but Spock puts a hand on his shoulder.

“There is no more time, Captain. Unfortunately.” The last word is said with almost audible disappointment, but when Jim looks up at Spock the Vulcan’s face is impassive.

Spock takes the time to tuck himself back, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a _smile?_ As he gathers some escaped cum from Jim’s chin on his thumb and pushes it back into his mouth. Boldly, Jim sucks on the thumb and Spock hisses, his eyes dark again. The bulge that was fading in his pants throbs for a second.

“ _Jim._ ” Spock warns.

Jim lets the thumb go, and pouts. “But this is so much more _fun_ than going back to the bridge and _sitting_. At least _you_ have things other than reports, like your experiments.”

Spock helps Jim to his feet, and watches with a raised eyebrow as Jim winces from his sore knees.

“When I am not being distracted.” Spock adds. Jim throws him a salacious smirk, which is ignored.

Spock disengages the door lock as he pulls his blue shirt back on, pristine and untouched, Jim notes as the cooling wet patch in his underwear makes itself known. _Ugh._

They’re back in the turbolift before Jim remembers.

“Oh yeah, what were you going to tell me? And why couldn’t you just tell me in the ‘lift earlier that you wanted to fuck my brains out?”

Spock’s mouth doesn’t exactly smile, but it seems to loosen slightly from the tight line.

“My control, it appears, is somewhat...difficult to maintain when you are present. If I had allowed you to speak earlier, we may not have ‘made it’ to the privacy of Briefing Room One before…” Spock’s voice trails off. 

“I mean, there’s a _halt_ button on the turbolift for a reason.”

Spock opens his mouth, probably to tell Jim off, when the doors open. So Jim just gives him his _most_ cheeky grin, and goes to plop down in the Captain’s chair. He maybe suppresses a wince with the impact. But he’s not giving anyone the benefit to see it.

* * *

Things are never just easy for James Kirk. He has to work for them. Ya know, he earned it—and by ‘it’ he means the ship, you know, of course. And he loves his job—even though it feels more like a lifestyle at this point—but he never appreciates getting _these_ kinds of missions. And by ‘these kinds of missions’ he means—

“Jesus, Jim can you stop mumbling over there to yourself and help me out?”

“It’s not my fault they have weird superstitions about triangles!” The bars hold steady under his hands when he rattles them, so he sighs and trudges through to McCoy, the heavy metal ball chains attached to his feet slowing him down.

Bones looks miserable. The lines under his eyes are heavy and his arms sluggishly push the cuff of his sleeve up, exposing the hidden distress beacon strapped to his arm. Jim loosens the strap and presses the command code to release the core components of the distress beacon into his palm. It’s not much, but it’ll do in a pinch; and that’s exactly what they’re in right now. 

“Still got your medical tricorder?” They were lucky that McCoy could convince the natives of the planet it was necessary to keep them alive in this environment.

“How the hell could I lose it when we have about 5 square feet total in this damn room?” 

“Give it to me.”

“Wait—you’re not gonna dismantle the only thing we have that can tell me—,”

“We don’t have time to argue about this, Doctor, just give me the tricorder!”

McCoy doesn’t seem convinced, but he grits his jaw and hands the device over.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jim mumbles to himself, using a nail he pried off the bed frame earlier to loosen the seam and pop open the tricorder.

“If you weren’t classified as a genius, I’da rather knocked you out than given it to you, that’s for sure.”

The lucky thing about Starfleet is that most of their equipment is made with the same basic components. It’s partially about ease of creation and partially for situations like this, where the only thing Jim has to work with are the bare essentials. Well, not exactly _bare_ essentials; but the concept is the same. The distress beacon by itself could send a signal to the _Enterprise_ under normal conditions. Unfortunately, these weren’t normal conditions. The jail they’re in was built entirely out of a currently unknown rock element. As were most of the homes. Which is why they didn’t register as homes upon the initial scans. With their luck, the sensors won’t even pick up their life signs. Which is why…

“Aha!”

Jim can hear Bones rolling his eyes.

“Care to update your friendly country doctor?” But there’s a smile in his voice.

Jim carefully carries the rewired distress beacon to the highest point in the room, and begins the transmission sequence. “You know, I am the Captain. You should trust me more.”

McCoy snorts, but there’s a desperation in his eyes. Jim swallows the lump in his throat.

“They’re gonna find us, Bones. They wouldn’t give up.”

Bones scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay, but just set that down, would ya? My arms are getting tired just from looking at you. And we need to get some rest.”

Jim sighs and tucks their fancy new homing device under the bed, leaving it on.

“So,” Jim claps his hands together. “Who’s going first?”

* * *

Jim’s on his third ‘night-watch’ shift, his eyes struggling to stay open, when he hears it. From the entrance of their jail, a quiet _thunk_. The sound of a body hitting the ground. He’s immediately awake—his body completely cold and on alert. He shakes McCoy awake with a hand on the doctor’s mouth to keep him from making a noise. Bones nods, and Jim takes his hand off, eyes trained on the bars of their cage.

Soft footsteps approach. A figure cloaked in darkness. Jim’s heart is in his throat.

“Captain?” A familiar voice whispers. Jim’s heart floods and radiates through his body. _Safety_.

“ _Spock!_ ” Jim whispers back, grabbing his makeshift homing device and trying his best not to run to the bars. He has a reputation to maintain. But the grin on his face almost physically hurts. And his knees are weak.

“I’m here, too, ya know.” Bones grumbles.

“Unfortunately, that is impossible to forget.” Spock murmurs, his tone warm. Then, “Jim, please stand back.”

Jim stumbles backwards a little, watching in shock and pride as the metal bars bend beneath Spock’s hands. Like putty. Jim’s brain feels like it took the nearest exit out and left him to pick up the damage. Spock reaches out a hand.

Jim takes it.

* * *

Jim doesn’t really seem able to let go of Spock’s hand until they’re at sickbay, and Bones basically pries his frozen, dirty fingers off of Spock’s long, elegant ones. The doctor is shaking his head the whole time like it’s _Jim’s_ fault he can’t feel his fingers. He does feel a little bad that Spock had to deal with his grimy germs, but it’s not like he can’t wash his hands. _I’ll make it up to you_ , he thinks. Not that Spock can hear his thoughts. The Vulcan is too busy hovering over McCoy’s scanners to notice.

But Jim can see the hand that was holding his clench in a fist. _Like he wants to hold onto as much of you as he can_ , something says. _That doesn’t even make sense_ , he says back. Maybe he _should_ take a few days off.

“I told him you wouldn’t stop looking for us.” Jim can’t stop smiling.

“Indeed.” With great difficulty, Spock looks away from the monitors, and into his eyes. Jim feels light-headed. There’s something deep and intense about Spock’s eyes, the sweep of his brows, his lips as they part. Jim wants to run his hands through Spock’s hair, wants to hold him close.

Jim knows for certain Spock wouldn’t leave them, it made the previous 24 hours somewhat bearable, but now he just needs to feel something. He needs…

“So, _Bones_ ━,” 

“Yes, _Captain_. You can go. Nothing more than some minor chafing, but━,”

He’s already at the door with Spock hot on his trail. There’s a promise in the way Spock walks towards him. Yeah, he’s not sticking around for this to happen in Sickbay. McCoy scowls at Jim as he blows the doctor an over-the-top kiss. Waves him out.

They make it to Jim’s quarters. Jim pulls his shirt over his head while Spock stands in parade rest. Jim huffs and scrubs at his face. He’s tugging off his pants before Spock clears his throat. Jim whirls around, not slowing his undressing. Spock isn’t looking at him, his gaze is fixed on the bulkhead above, a greenish tinge to his cheeks.

“Why so modest, Spock? You’ve seen me in less.” Jim’s underwear hits the floor, and is immediately thrown down the laundry chute with the rest of his grimy clothes. Spock’s nostrils flare slightly but he still says nothing.

Jim shakes his head, “okay, well. I’m gonna take a shower. You’re free to join me.”

There’s a moment, and then Spock starts undressing. It’s Jim’s turn to be embarrassed━it's a little different when it’s so... intimate. They aren’t rushing so it’s just. _Weird._ Jim shakes the feeling out of his head and pads to the bathroom, starting the water shower sequence and dialing up the temperature until he’s sure it’ll wash off the grime he feels caked in.

Water showers always feel the best for Jim, at least when he’s feeling actually dirty. He likes watching the water wash down the drain, taking whatever nightmare he just escaped with him. This time, luckily, it’s just dirt swirling by his feet and not… Well. Let’s just say it could be worse. Jim also likes water showers because _this_ way he can lather himself in soapy body washes. He’s just starting to dump the lavender shampoo in his hair when he hears Spock enter.

There’s not much noise whenever Spock moves, usually he’s very quiet and efficient in his movements but Jim can hear his very quiet intake of breath. If he were human, Jim would call it a gasp. Jim braces himself for a harsh treatment somewhat subconsciously, he’s not used to anything less, but sighs and relaxes as Vulcan fingers thread through his hair and start massaging the shampoo in.

Jim sags against Spock, his breath ragged as it leaves his lungs. The body behind him is solid and supportive, but Jim still needs to know.

“I can touch you, right?” The fingers in his hair still. _Shit, did he say something wrong?_ Jim’s about to take it back, when the fingers continue, this time pressing down into his pressure points and scraping his skull pleasantly. Spock’s hands move to Jim’s neck, and massage slightly before turning Jim to face him.

Jim snorts, trying not to laugh. Spock’s hair is wet and sticks to his head. _He looks like a wet cat_. Spock raises an eyebrow. The laughter bursts out of Jim suddenly, and Spock doesn’t seem too upset, despite being the source of Jim’s humor, but then Spock’s hands come up to cradle Jim’s face and he goes quiet. There’s no specific expression on Spock’s face, at least not one Jim can read, and his eyebrows are pulled together. The silence is only broken by the hissing of the shower. 

Spock reaches behind Jim to turn it off. There’s a nervousness under Jim’s skin that makes him twitchy and anxious to leave whatever weird feeling now suffuses them. Jim’s voice breaks as he calls for the dryers to come on, and the satisfaction of seeing Spock’s hair fluff up is enough to make him forget the momentary lapse.

This time, Spock presses Jim down into the bed with an almost scary sense of intent. Spock’s eyes comb across Jim’s body, his fingers trail and trace his scars, the ones from places Jim never wants to think about again, but the points of contact still send a burning need directly through him. Jim’s toes curl as Spock nips and sucks bruises between his thighs, on his stomach, on his chest, while his hands hold Jim’s hips still. Jim is open-mouthed and breathing heavily by the time Spock surges forward to kiss his lips, biting and pulling his lower lip. 

There’s something about the way Spock is looking at Jim that makes him too nervous to speak. He thinks if he says something, it’ll break the moment and he’ll never get it back. He might lose the Spock that he’s getting this time━then Spock’s dripping dick nudges him open and Jim whines. Spock’s gaze is still focused entirely on Jim as he places his hand over Jim’s meld points.

  
  


“May I?” There’s something about the fact that Spock even asks that makes Jim want to cry.

“Of course.” Jim barely breathes.

The meld isn’t the same as the last one. It’s not any deeper, Spock doesn’t pry into Jim’s feelings or his memories; Jim gets the feeling Spock is looking for something specific, targeted. There’s a pleasant satisfaction when Spock finds it, and _oh._

“Oh.” Jim doesn’t even remember thinking about saying it out loud, but he doesn’t seem able to stop himself. And then, “huhh _fuck_?”

Spock seats himself fully in Jim in one thrust, and Jim grips the bedsheets, his entire focus on the pleasure radiating through his body. He can’t stop clenching and whining, trying in vain to get more of Spock in him. Jim’s dick twitches and Spock feels...amazing, like he’s filling Jim full. And every thrust sends shoots of pleasure up Jim’s spine and down his arms, down his fingers.

There’s a light growl from above Jim, and then he’s being pounded into and every time Spock buries himself inside Jim, Jim can’t help but lock up, squeeze more, as the pleasure prickles all over. He feels like he’s been on edge for hours and Spock’s looking at him and his mouth is open. Fingers dig into his hip, into his chest, scrape along his stomach, stopping above his dick, and Jim still squirms and knows he’s making noises, but can’t stop himself because the stretch of Spock’s dick is hitting him to the core.

“Come.” Spock says.

Jim does, but it doesn’t stop there. The first orgasm is good, but he’s still too turned on, it just makes the ache worse, and he squeezes harder, earning a low noise from Spock. The second orgasm curls Jim’s toes and tears through him, but Spock keeps going, and Jim writhes and pushes past a third, and a fourth, before Spock’s rhythm takes on a desperate edge. 

“Please, Spock,  _sanu_ , _boshau k’sa-nei-masu t’du_. _B-bolau nash-veh_.” Jim doesn’t know how or when he started speaking Vulcan, but he’s not about to stop, not with how it’s affecting Spock, who finally sinks deep into Jim and cums, panting heavily.

Like usual, there’s a silence afterwards, while Jim tries to pick up the pieces of himself that Spock scattered everywhere. And by the time he’s back in order, he looks around to say something, but Spock is gone. And Jim doesn’t even know when he left.

The piece of Jim that had been glowing since he saw Spock back on the planet━since he’d grabbed Spock’s hand━dims, and leaves a dull ache in his chest, a disappointment in his throat. Jim feels…

Used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nah-tor du kriv kitork-nahp---vah-kuv ruhm dan-nuk-vok ri kash-tor kashek-salehmlar t’du. Nah-tor du nash-veh ri kup fnish-tor renyut vukhut t’du dator na’nash-veh? -- You...thinking such filthy thoughts, as if even the lowest level telepath couldn’t sense your projections. You think I cannot smell the way your body prepares for me?
> 
> Lau-boshau ru’lut t’du k’sa-nei-masu ni-ish fai-tor kanok-veh pawenau tu t’vi. -- I might fill your mouth with my semen so that everyone knows who you belong to.
> 
> sanu, boshau k’sa-nei-masu t’du. B-bolau nash-veh -- please, fill me with your cum. I n-need it


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some plot. No smut. That happens possibly the next chapter.
> 
> CW for vague references to Tarsus, but nothing concrete. As well as mentions of nausea and general illness.

It’s not like they have a schedule━they more or less just fuck whenever the mood arises. It’s not like they’re _exclusive_ or anything. Which, is fine with Jim. Right? Right. If Jim feels more alive than ever whenever he’s in a meld with Spock, if he finds himself holding on to every word Spock says, gets a nervous energy whenever he sees him, that’s Jim’s business and no one else’s.

The clack of teeth through nail startles Jim, and he makes a face when he realizes he’s bitten his fingernails down as far as they can go. _Not_ this _shit again._ Jim looks around, and sighs when he realizes everyone is busy with their work. Jim should be delighted; he’s out in space, nothing but the gentle pull of the warp drives. Stars on his heels. But he feels...restless. And a restless Jim Kirk is not the kind of Jim Kirk his crew _or_ Starfleet want to deal with. He actually knows this for a fact.

_Technically,_ they don’t really have any orders from Starfleet aside from the usual “just fly around space and see if anything weird happens.” Well, that’s not word-for-word but you know, paraphrasing is easier. Maybe they should throw in some fun.

Jim claps his hands together once, and at least three people jump. He can _feel_ Spock’s disapproval all the way from his station. _So what._ The voice in Jim’s head says, _when did you start caring about what other people think?_ Jim wants to remind it that caring about what other people think about him has been practically a side-job for his entire life.

“Let’s do something _fun_ , yeah?”

Sulu and Chekov swivel towards him from their seats, exchanging a nervous glance with each other.

“What, exactly, did you have in mind, sir?” Sulu asks, somewhere between exasperated and anxious.

“Well, what are the nearest M-Class planets? There’s gotta be something to do, right?” Sulu doesn’t look convinced. “Spock?”

“Sir?”

“Do you need any samples for any ongoing experiments? Any unknown data about nearby planets?”

“I don’t━,” Jim turns to Spock, giving him his best ‘ _puppy dog eyes_ ’, the ones Bones always falls for. Spock pauses, and blinks. “...see why we could not, perhaps revisit,” his eyebrow raises, “that planet which the crew has so colorfully named: ‘Green Uranus’,” Jim snorts and hears a few scattered chuckles around the bridge. Spock talks over them. “However, the reasons why they do so when the similarities between the two are negligible at best, elude me.”

“Plot a course for it at warp 4, Mr. Sulu.” Jim says, not looking away from Spock. “And, thank you, Mr. Spock.”

Spock looks a little confused for a moment, then, inclines his head. Jim faces the stars━his favorite past-time on the ship is seeing them streak when they go into warp.

“Punch it.”

* * *

How they managed to overlook an entire civilization is something that Jim’ll never figure out. Like, they scanned the entire planet and all of its history indicated there wasn’t anyone there. Maybe an invasion? Technology that nullifies their sensors? Jim groans frustratedly into his palm, squeezing his eyes closed. This wasn’t supposed to be _work_ work. _At least this way, we can be cleared for some shore leave after._ After nearly a year of endless missions, mission reports, ship maintenance, Jim deserves some good shore leave. Maybe he can even get Spock to go somewhere with him. That thought settles in his stomach in a funny way, leaving something warm and hopeful.

Jim shakes himself━that’s entirely inappropriate. They’re _friends._ And Spock is only fucking him to get it out of his system. It’s to improve his efficiency. Hopes intentionally crushed━pulverized, and then gritted under his boot for some extra flair━Jim crawls out of the hut he’d been wallowing in under the guise of gathering more readings. 

“Did you identify any of the ingredients in the huts, or anything inconsistent with the materials available on this planet?” Spock asks, but with a tone in his voice that means _I know you didn’t do what you were supposedly doing_. 

Jim curses Spock’s hearing, but transfers the readings he took, surprising Spock. Jim knows how to cover his tracks; he’s not about to throw himself a pity party without an alibi. Spock’s mouth presses together and Jim can feel his sharp gaze, which he intentionally does not meet, instead looking around at the dense forestry. 

Out of all of the scenery of the worlds, Jim feels most comfortable in a Starship. But he has a lot of experience with scavenging for food in forests. Well, in _one_ forest. Luckily, there’s a taste in the air and a blueness to the trees here that distinctly puts him away from that place. He can close his eyes and hear the weird warbling of the birds here and know: _I’m not_ there. Because _there_ had a very very distinct smell━but only after the food had run out.

A hand gently touches Jim’s shoulder and suddenly retracts as he startles; heart leaping in his throat and flooding his body with adrenaline. _Fuck, that_ never _gets old._ He cautiously meets Spock’s unreadable look, and tries to breathe more slowly. Yeah, definitely caught. Oh well, Spock won’t find out about that place anyways. He’s safe from all of Jim’s shit.

“I apologize for alarming you, Captain.” Jim tries not to roll his eyes, Spock says it like it’s out of the ordinary for someone to jump ten feet in the air when someone else touches their shoulder. “However, we appear to have company.”

The ‘company’ this time were friendly, if their curious trills and spindly fingers winding through the landing party’s unusual hair were any indicators. The curiosity in the frog-like features of the one exploring Jim are apparent. The slimy tendrils are somewhat cold and uncomfortable, but Jim swallows back his immediate reaction of goosebumps and raised hackles. Clears his throat.

“Hello.” Jim says, opening his universal translator, hoping to the stars that it had picked up enough of their language to make an assessment. “We’re from the United Federation of Planets. What do you call yourselves?” _Well, it’s not like they could expect to just blend in, so they’ll have to revert to First Contact protocol._

Vague croaking shuffles itself into something more palatable for the human brain.

“Nmeski. We did not expect to see anyone on the up-lands during _Berkrotsh_. You must come with us.” The Nmeski coils it’s tendrils around Jim’s neck, and a feeling of warmth and trust suffuses his brain. 

Jim feels fuzzy, and he looks over at Spock, who’s got a furrow in his brow that doesn’t seem good. But this being is trustworthy, he knows it. The golden-green eyes blink, and the spotted skin of the Nmeski shimmers with the shifting light through the trees. Jim touches it without thinking, sinking his hand into the skin. It feels really really similar to a snake, but there’s something beating and warm underneath the surface. Hmh.

“We should go with ‘m, Spock. I think we c’n trust’m.” Jim feels oddly out-of-place laughter bubble up. “I might need a un’vers’l translat’r too, s’n, ‘f this keeps up.” 

Spock doesn’t look convinced. Jim peers around and sees the rest of the group━a few security officers and a xenoflourist━seem to be getting the same treatment. All of them look a little out of it, tendrils weaving through their hair. Spock’s the only one who wasn’t affected when they probed at him. Or, maybe he is, just isn’t showing it. Jim smiles and hooks his arm into Spock’s.

“Show us the way!” He calls breezily, and the Nmeski twitter excitedly, huddling the group into a herd and starting them down a seemingly random pathway.

After ten minutes of walking, Spock breathes a whisper in Jim’s ear and Jim has to make sure he stays focused on _walking_ and not _tripping_. Spock doesn’t sound very excited to see whatever isn’t the “up-lands”.

“I do not believe this is a wise decision, Captain. I believe they have intoxicated you and the landing party, somehow.”

“Look, _Spock_ ,” Jim’s good at his words, “I know ‘ve got something, but I don’t think i’s their fault. I’m ordering you to drop it, ‘least ‘till we get there, okay? ‘F I get worse, you have the conn. ‘S that work?”

“Affirmative.”

Jim smiles smugly and tries not to rest too much of his body weight on Spock. Yup, there was definitely something in those tentacles. Jim doesn’t really mind though, maybe it was a misunderstanding? They don’t even know if this species have even met anyone other than themselves, so it’s not like they would know this could be harmful or intoxicating. He hopes it isn’t intentional. Otherwise this was a trap, and they’ve all been completely disarmed.

* * *

The planet, despite everything, is still gorgeous. The Nmeski lead them away from the huts and deep into the woods. Streams bubble beneath their feet and plump, vibrant yellow blossoms squeeze their way in between the rocks. Complicated chatters and squeals echo through the trees, and the branches seem to be reaching for them; Spock never lets go of Jim’s arm. Which Jim knows is probably because he’d slip without the support. The rest of the landing party━Burrows and Morshak, security officers, and Lt. Sae, the xenoflourist━are all essentially being held up by their Nmeski counterparts.

“We will not let them come to harm, Captain.” Spock reassures him in a low voice.

_We better not,_ Jim thinks. He hasn’t been able to really meet each of them personally but he’s heard of them individually and admires Lt. Sae’s work with restoring life to strains of wheat he’d thought had died out. Xenoflourism, he guesses, is a bit of a misleading title, with what different cultures perceive as ‘flowers’.

Suddenly, the group stops, and Jim has to stumble back to avoid hitting the Nmeski in front of him. He realizes they didn’t even give him their names.

“We are here.”

Here, is apparently a large pond. Jim starts getting nervous. They don’t expect them to breathe underwater, do they? The one in the front trills something that the universal translator can’t decipher, and wades in. The rest follow, gently nudging the humans in, and Jim watches in frozen horror as his crewmates disappear beneath the surface. He wants to━he has to…wait...what does he have to do? This is fine, they’ll be okay. They should trust the Nmeski.

Jim steps forward, and the sea engulfs him. He hears Spock call something out from behind him, and he wants to go back, reassure him that it’s okay. That he can breathe. He can breathe? Jim opens his eyes.

He and the others are in a cave, with glowing gold fungi lighting their way forward. Across the walls, there are images of the Nmeski, painted and luminescing. Jim opens his mouth to as his guides what the _fuck_ ━he’d, of course, use more diplomatic language━is going on, when a _pop_ and light footsteps inform him that Spock was with them again.

Spock reaches out, and then retracts his hands━Jim ignores his disappointment━before settling on folding them behind his back. He nods at the Nmeski.

“They informed me that it was merely an illusion, and that you were _intact_.” Spock says, the golden glowing illuminating his face, his lips. 

Jim blinks. “All right, so where are we going?”

As they walk, the Nmeski trail their hands on the images of the wall, and the one who was all tentacle-y at Jim earlier (whose, Jim notes, yellow spots shine in the darkness) tries to explain with the stunted translations of a language with multiple words that don’t have an FSE equivalent. The Nmeski don’t actually have individual names, and are more defined by their connection to the others in their community, which, Jim thinks should get confusing. But, when he voices that, the Nmeski━he’ll call it (her? Him? Them?) Yellow Spots━makes a weird noise that the universal translator doesn’t know what to do with, and then explains.

“We are capable of _gridreek_. If we are referring to someone not there, we show.”

Grimacing, Jim attempts the word. “ _Gridreek_? What’s that?”

Yellow Spots looks at him, and Jim is struck once again with how they’re actually _communicating_ , even from different worlds. With different languages. But they’re still there and talking to each other and that’s completely wild.

“You experienced it, did you not?” Yellow Spots unfurls a tendril of a finger as an example. _Oh._

“Oh the like finger-thingy? That got me drunk?”

“Finger.” Yellow Spots says, considering the word. “Drunk?”

“Intoxicated.” Then as Yellow Spots’s eyes widen, “is that not what it’s for?”

“No. I must apologize. It must be because you are _foreign_ , with another of my people it would send a picture.”

Spock seems to pop in out of nowhere, when he was actually walking next to Jim the whole time. Jim still jumps when he speaks close by, heart in his throat.

“You are telepathic?”

A tendril coils around Jim’s cheek, soothing him, and then withdrawing. Jim notices Spock looking at it with a look that would usually precipitate murder.

“We use _finger_ to show and send emotion between us.” Yellow Spots responds.

An intake of breath is as far as Spock gets to asking his next question, before being interrupted with a chorus of weird croaks. The caveway widens above them to reveal a huge cavern, pockets of rock hollowed out to contain a few Nmeski in each.

“Guess we figured out how they evaded our sensors,” Jim mumbles at Spock.

“Indeed.” Spock says, a hint of awe in his voice. Jim studies him out of the corner of his eye; Spock isn’t what he’d call particularly expressive, but his eyes are widened enough that he looks...dazed, and his lips are parted. Jim really has to stop looking at Spock’s lips. You know what, fuck it. They’ve had sex, he’s allowed to look at Spock’s lips. He’s not being petulant.

And then they’re surrounded; at least ten different tendrils touch Jim before Yellow Spots croaks out a warning at the Nmeski, and they retract; leaving Jim to stumble backwards before promptly and, very expertly, passing out.

The first thing Jim hears upon waking is garbled universal translator speech, ice cold Vulcan tones, and Lt. Sae’s helpful chirping.

“━Sure there’s nothing down here that can help?” Sae asks warmly, “you must have something beyond extra food storage.”

“No,” The universal translator’s impression of Yellow Spots says. “We carry food and medicinal supplies here, but we do not tolerate _violence_ of any sort. The Terhengli have _dominance_ in the up-lands for the remainder of the _season_. This is how it has always been.”

“While pacifism is something my culture shares and holds very highly, it would be logical for you to have some method of self protection, should the Terhengli invade your caves.”

Jim tries to sit up and almost passes out again━the pressure in his face and blurring of his vision threatening him against any sudden movements like the one he just did. The conversation near him cuts off abruptly. His hands sink into the cushion beneath him and he recoils when he feels it move. Dread settles in his stomach when he realizes its producing it’s own heat.

“Um, guys?” Jim says, voice higher pitched than usual, “what am I laying on here?”

“ _Wretdreek_.” Yellow Spots says, helpfully.

Lt. Sae breathes out a sigh of relief upon seeing Jim awake. “As far as I can tell, it’s kind of like a type of moss. They said it helps with ‘mental healing’?”

Yellow Spots’s throat makes a repetitive enthusiastic gargling and the UT placidly states: _“agreement”_. Jim figures its like a nod.

Jim, very uncomfortable with the _fucking breathing moss_ under him attempts to crawl out of it, ignoring the wave of dizzyness that knocks him off balance, and props himself up on the wall of the cave even though his whole body screams for him to lay back down. He’s not giving up that easily. The weird pressure comes back and he shoots an attempt at a reassuring smile at Spock who looks like he wants nothing more than to pick Kirk up himself and take him back to the ship, bridal style. Well, some of that might be wishful thinking on Jim’s end.

“So why am I the only one with a hangover?”

Yellow Spots looks uneasy. “That’s probably my fault. The other members of your _crew-family_ were _gridreek_ when we arrived but you were not, and many were curious. It is customary to _share_ , and the other Nmeski━that is━we are not used to...what your ‘Spock’ calls ‘mental privacy’.”

“So they pounced. Got it.” A small headache forms behind Jim’s eyes. Great. “Any ship contact?”

Spock steps in. “Negative, Captain. And we were attempting to negotiate going back to the ship to get you medical attention, but it appears there are...complications.”

“Would it kill you to be less cryptic?” Spock opens his mouth, and Jim waves a hand at him. “Human phrase. What are the complications?”

“There is a natural balance to our existence, Captain. When the dry season starts, the Terhengli overcome the up-lands, and we go to the down-lands.” Yellow Spots says, gesturing to the caves. “The dry season brings their food source and any Nmeski is perceived a _rival_. The Terhengli are not cruel, but they are protective of their food as they have only this season to _catch._ ”

“You’re worried if we go out, they’ll attack us?” Jim’s head swims.

Yellow Spots blinks; quick membranes over glassy eyes. “That is why we brought you here when we were only sent to _gather_.”

Jim stumbles, vision worsening and blacking out in dots. That doesn’t seem good. Vaguely he can hear Spock using urgent tones, while Lt. Sae calls Burrows over to help hold their Captain up. Jim snorts. _Some captain._ What kind of captain passes out over a few _tentacles_? Okay, maybe not the best choice of words.

“How long’s this dry season going to last?” Jim interrupts, probably for the best, if the rigidity of Spock’s spine is any indicator.

“Ninety-one cycles.” Yellow Spots says.

“Approximately one hundred and three days.” Spock translates.

Jim feels Burrows shift next to him. “Lieutenant,” he addresses Sae, “is there anything we can eat here?”

Spock’s iron gaze fixes on Burrows. “Irrelevant. We will not be staying. Captain Kirk requires medical assistance━,”

“When do I _not_.” Jim mutters under his breath.

“━therefore, we will be leaving as soon as we can. First,” Spock says, “we will need knowledge of a location from which we may beam out safely.” He gives a pointed look and raised eyebrow at Yellow Spots. “I propose a meld.”

“Woah, woah, waoh.” Spock looks at Jim curiously with his outburst. “Look, I’m expendable. It’s more _logical_ not to risk yourselves for me. Seriously, I’m sure there’s food here we can eat, and we don’t even know if whatever is wrong with me is permanently damaging.”

Something flashes across Spock’s face that as Kirk’s heart sinking to his stomach, but pretty indicates just how little Spock thinks of that assessment. Burrows, surprisingly, is the one who speaks up.

“Sir, you _definitely_ need medical help if you think we’re gonna risk you dying.” _Again_ , was left unsaid. Jim shivered with the memory.

“I’m not sure if I should be proud or write you up for mutiny.” Jim says, vision momentarily going yellow. 

Content with Jim’s submission to ‘logic’, Spock turns to Yellow Spots, and raises his hand, hesitantly hovering his fingers over the Nmeski’s face.

“Shall we?”

* * *

The preparation to leave the caves took a few hours, most of which Jim spent slowly deteriorating. His headache was on and off, and the range of colors overlayed in front of his eyes changed every time. His slurring was getting worse and he was having trouble walking. By the time they had gotten everyone together and worked out vague directions of where they would go to get the best transporter signal━Spock’s meld was useful━Jim feels like he’s burning out of his body and everything sounds just a little bit out of sync.

Jim slings his tricorder around his shoulders and secures it to his belt just as Spock walks up to him, suspiciously reserved. The Vulcan folds his arms behind his back as his gaze rakes Jim up and down. Jim’s face feels weirdly swollen, but he doesn’t think it is. Why does every mission end up like this?

“We are prepared to leave, Captain.”

Jim inhales deeply, trying to muster the will to get up. The floor seems a little spinny. Is that just him? He pushes himself up and immediately stumbles into Spock. As strong arms enclose around him, he hears a murmur in his ear.

“Do you need to be carried?”

It’s said respectfully, with no judgment and purely medical concern, but it causes Jim to involuntarily straighten and disentangle himself from Spock. Yep, that’s not happening. Jim tries to sound put-together.

“No need for that. Let’s go.”

And abruptly turns and almost falls flat on his face.

Spock effortlessly hooks one arm underneath Jim’s legs, and secures him to his chest with the other, and it would be really romantic if Jim wasn’t trying not to vomit and/or pass out. As is, Jim gives up at his meager attempt not to be a burden and presses his face against Spock’s neck. It feels...colder than usual. That’s no good.

Jim’s eyes are cracked open, and he tries not to feel embarrassed when they meet the rest of the landing party crew at the entrance of the cave. He fails━it turns out being carried by your first officer is humiliating, who would’ve thought?━but Spock is as calm as ever, acting like this is totally normal. The deep rumble of his voice is soothing, and Jim rubs his face against the cool skin of his neck.

“Lieutenant, officers. Follow me.”

And then they’re out, the damp cool of the caves shimmering and disappearing to make way for the muggy heat of the planet’s surface. As hard as it is to keep his eyes open, Jim has to. It’s an irrational reaction, but the fear pumping through him justifies it. The bugs sound almost like ones from Earth if he doesn’t focus too hard on it, but the pale blue glow of the planet’s moon is enough to assure him that this is definitely not Earth. That, and the salty smell of the plants.

The landing crew move as quickly as they can while also trying not to step on anything. Spock, as usual, is the most successful, which is kinda hot considering he’s also carrying someone else. Spock’s arms tighten around Jim, who realizes again, fucking touch telepath. Whatever. It’s not like Spock doesn’t know Jim’s into him. It’s fairly obvious by now, he should think. And also, totally not what’s the most important at the moment.

A web of some sort brushes against Jim’s face and he stifles an uneasy shiver. The breathing of the crew and the gentle motion are reassuring. The trees, which in the daylight had been creepy enough are now downright terrifying as their branches reach down, and the glowing insects at the base of some emit a weird humming noise. It grits at his ears and makes his head buzz, but they aren’t at the point of extraction yet.

Something rustles nearby, and everyone stops. A cold dread takes hold in Jim’s stomach. He can feel Spock tensing against him, every muscle taut and breathing slow. The rustling stops, and then resumes closer, accompanied by a snuffling noise. Sae and the two security officers fan out around Jim and Spock in a protective circle; raising their phasers at the bushes and━

A pig steps out. Well, not a _pig_ , but that’s as close to a comparison as Jim can make. It’s a little more blue than an Earth pig, has a few more legs, and a bisected nose. It snorts at them, and Spock releases a deep breath.

“Come,” he whispers, “it is harmless. But we must hurry; where there is prey, predators will follow.”

Sae nods and rounds the other two up. Jim feels distinctly helpless and useless, and if he wasn’t sure that demanding to be put down would not only slow them down but actively put them in danger, he would in a heartbeat have chosen that over being bridal-carried by Spock while he’s still technically in command. The incline they’re walking up gets steeper, and Spock adjusts Jim so that he’s basically hanging onto Spock as he uses his arms and legs to crawl up the spongy moss.

They’ve made it about 15 meters from the pig when they hear a panicked squealing, a sound kind of like a growl but if it was done by a human vocal cord system, and then a distinct tearing noise. Spock climbs faster, pausing at the top of the hill to help pull the remaining three members up, setting Jim to the side. Spock flips open his communicator and dials it to accommodate for the atmosphere, as Sai and Burrows hoist Jim up, one arm around each of their shoulders. Jim feels cold sweat drip down his back between his shirt and his skin.

“Spock to Enterprise.”

For a minute, Jim is terrified. What if they aren’t high enough? What if whatever ate the pig can hear them? He pushes back another wave of nausea. If that happens, he’s going to make it an order for them to leave him behind. There’s no reason he needs to drag them down.

“Sulu here. Spock, we thought you were gone! You all disappeared from our sensors.”

Jim breathes a sigh of relief and feels the others do the same. The sound of moss being unearthed in front of them forces that relief to be quick, and Spock notices.

“Four to beam up, Sulu. Now.”

The last thing Jim sees before they rematerialize is something big and rippling charging towards them from where they were just standing; claws glinting in the moonlight and a sickeningly sweet smell. 

When the transporter room shimmers into existence in front of him, he smiles at McCoy and takes a few steps forward, and this time when he falls; he does land on his face. The last thing he hears is McCoy swearing and calling for a gurney.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation for those curious:
> 
> "Svi'ru'lut t'du. I." = Inside your mouth. Now.


End file.
